Song: “You Said You’d Grow Old With Me” by Michael Schulte

I’d seen nothing but gray for a decade—a century?—so maybe that’s why my heart fluttered at the sight of him, a flash of blues and a dash of burnt orange where his head must’ve been. He crossed in front of me but didn’t look in my direction. He probably couldn’t see me anyway; Dralyn would never let that happen.

I tried to move, then, but the gray tightened around me. A decade ago, I might’ve worried about suffocating, but Dralyn would never let that happen either. Even now, with the flash of blues approaching it, Dralyn remained tuned to my existence, and I could feel its breath on my skin as much as when it was looming over me.

It wasn’t, though. It was still standing in the far corner of its chamber. Peering through the gray like the fogged-up lens of a kaleidoscope, I watched its towering form slowly turn to meet the flash of blues.

Dralyn’s obsidian scales shimmered as they caught the light, and a faint memory stirred within me—light on closed eyelids, warmth on skin, hand on hand. I knew I’d never feel any of that again, and I knew that should make me angry, but anger had no place in the gray.

The flash of blue gestured and shouted, and a beat passed before his words registered:

“You have broken our deal!” He reached up and plucked something from the crown of orange. “Gray!” He took another step forward and jabbed his finger in my direction. “You have my soulmate, so why is it gray?”

Dralyn hunched forward and somehow seemed to grow larger.

In the old stories, the elders had called Dralyn a god; in hushed underground gatherings, the heretics had called it a demon. They’d both been wrong all along. Dralyn was nothing more than a reflection.

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